


Both Ways

by SM (abcdefuk_off)



Series: Zarry Cancer [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Cancer, Comforting Zayn, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of Sweet, Kind of angsty, M/M, Protective Harry, Sick Zayn, Worried boys, alternative universe, as is my style, supportive boys, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcdefuk_off/pseuds/SM
Summary: The boys worry that Harry isn't taking care of himself -and maybe they're right, maybe he isn't; but he doesn't need to, because he has Zayn.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Series: Zarry Cancer [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1465534
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Both Ways

Harry was exhausted. 

Not just under-slept and over-tired, but next level _exhausted_ , down to his very soul. 

He shook his head, trying to focus, he had a bar to tend after all; that and he didn’t need any of the boys noticing how faded he was – they were all currently in some sort of business meeting, but they could reappear at any time and Harry had to be looking alive and alert. He’d already gotten an earful from Liam about how he should go home, he’d been on the receiving end of one too many sympathetic looks from Niall, and Louis had made several comments about how Harry looked like shit. He knew it all came from places of concern, but it was annoying as fuck. 

Like Harry didn’t bloody know that he was tired, he needed to be reminded every two minutes. 

He resisted the urge to turn the music down another notch, knowing it was already playing quieter than it usually did. His head was pounding, and though he hadn’t mentioned it, Niall must have picked up on it because he had given Harry one of those sympathetic looks as he’d dialed down the tunes a couple hours ago. 

He glanced at his watch, the meeting should be wrapping up some time soon and then Harry would be able to get back home. He couldn’t for the life of him recall what the meeting was about – he thought it had something to do with budget or renovations or … something. He had known at one point, had actually been planning to attend the meeting originally, but when the bartender had called in sick that day and no one else could be found Harry offered to watch the pub while the other boys met up with their accountant and…some other bloke - and took care of business. Niall had insisted he didn’t mind manning the bar, but the blonde lad had already missed out on the meeting a few days back with the new suppliers. Niall had more of a hand in running the business than Harry did, it was only fair he got to sit in on the important things – besides, the young teacher had suffered through enough school meetings as of late and was too damn exhausted to pay much attention anyway. 

Harry smiled as he poured a couple drinks for a group of ladies who appeared to be having a relaxing girls’ night out. He was thankful the pub wasn’t too busy, it was a relatively calm Monday evening so far – but Harry had a long day at school and had been up all last night with Zayn. The sick boy had been vomiting all weekend, Friday night had been brutal with little reprieve on Saturday and then hell once again on Sunday. Nausea was a side-effect Zayn had suffered from pretty much the moment he began chemotherapy, but it was getting worse as the treatments intensified. It had never been as bad as it was Friday night, it had scared the shit out of Harry; he had been warned by the doctors and nurses about how bad it could get, but nothing could have prepared him for having to physically hold Zayn up as he heaved and trembled. He hadn’t known any side-effect could be that vicious, that relentless, that debilitating, that _terrifying_. 

Saturday had been spent sleeping and trying desperately to get Zayn to eat something – _anything_ – even though he was in pain all day with violent stomach cramps that were the result of heaving so aggressively all night long. Harry had prayed that Friday night had been nothing more than a fluke, his hope for that hypothesis had grown on Saturday when there had been only a little nausea, but a Sunday night spent camped out on the bathroom floor had brought that dream crashing down. 

Harry had been fairly confident in the fact that Zayn would spend most of Monday catching up on some much-needed sleep, so he felt comfortable enough to head off to school; not that he hadn’t spent nearly the entire day worried about his boyfriend. He had sent Louis to check on Zayn when he had failed to answer Harry’s call that afternoon. Of course the ill boy had simply been fast asleep – but Harry had needed to be sure before he could even attempt to focus on the lesson he was supposed to be teaching. 

Louis had insisted that Harry didn’t need to come to the meeting, likely because he had been able to sense how out of sorts the younger man was when he called him up in a panic and pleaded for him to dash to his flat to be sure Zayn was fairing okay, but Harry had insisted he would be there. He new how stressed Louis was about his best friend’s illness and he knew how that was causing him to be more overwhelmed with business at the pub than he would normally be. Harry was also aware from years of knowing Louis that stress tended to bring out a particularly snappy side of the older boy and it wasn’t fair that Niall was always left to deal with him. Liam had been chipping in a lot as well with the business side of things at the pub, even while working to manage his own career as well as be a husband and father. Harry had committed to helping out and he wanted to follow through with that, he owed the lads that much, and probably a whole lot more. 

As much as they did need his help, the reception he had been greeted with upon arriving to the pub that evening (making his way over once school was out and after he had returned home to check on Zayn and make him toast that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t eat) had been much less than welcoming. 

Louis had immediately commented on how terrible he looked – which was always nice to hear. Liam had given him a brief lecture about taking better care of himself, and Niall had kept looking at him like he was some poor sod who had just had his wallet nicked in a mugging. Harry had been relieved when the meeting had gotten underway and the lads were out of his hair. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, illuminating the screen, smirking at the text from Zayn that was being displayed. 

_Still fine, Haz._

That man knew him too well. 

_You’re as fine as they come, babe. ;)_

Harry responded, smiling as his thumb pressed send.

_You’re mental._

_For you, darlin, always. <3_

Zayn’s response was an eyeroll emoji, followed quickly by a heart, which made Harry smile; because no matter how ridiculous he could be and how exasperated his boyfriend could feel with him, Zayn never stopped making Harry feel anything but loved. 

He pocketed his phone, feeling a little less antsy and eager to leave, a simple text exchange with his boyfriend enough to settle him down to his very soul. 

He spent another hour looking after the pub, business tapering off after the kitchen closed at nine. A mere thirty minutes later only a few customers remained, all three nursing their drinks as they watched a footy match on one of the three tellies scattered about the place. 

Harry leaned back against the counter behind the bar, digging his knuckles into the corners of his eyes as his mouth was stretched wide with a yawn. 

“You should go home already, kid.” 

Harry looked over to see Louis approaching.

“Your meeting over?” He asked, watching as his mate settled next to him.

“Getting there. It’s mostly logistics and shit now.” Louis muttered. 

“And you’re not involved in that?” Harry queried, eyebrows raised. 

Louis shrugged, not seeming to have any interest in responding until the younger lad leaned closer and knocked their shoulders together. 

“I’d had about enough, for one day. My patience are just about through, so I figured I better get out of there before I start lopping off heads. Niall and Liam are plenty capable of handling things.” 

“Did it go alright?” 

“Yeah, went fine. I’ve just got other stuff on my mind is all.” Louis shrugged. 

Harry nodded, because he knew what that was like – he knew _exactly_ what that was like because he was fairly certain that he and Louis had the exact same person on their mind. 

Zayn. 

“He’s alright, you know. You don’t have to worry so much.” Harry encouraged softly. 

“This coming from the man that called me in a panic this afternoon!?” Louis replied, squinting his eyes critically at the boy next to him. 

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes, but it wasn’t like his friend hadn’t made a solid point. 

“Sorry about that.” He mumbled, moving around the bar to plop wearily onto one of the stools at the other side.

“Don’t be daft.” Louis criticized, moving a few steps forward, placing his elbows on the bar-top and leaning in towards Harry. “I always want you to call me about whatever shit you got going on, especially when it has anything to do with my best friend.” He asserted.

Harry nodded, because he was well aware of that – as much as Louis could mock or moan about things, he was _always_ there and ready to lend a hand when the world was caving in. 

“You never told me what that was all about.”

The younger man sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, as he tried to think up an honest response that wouldn’t cause Louis to lose more sleep than he probably already was. 

“I let it slide earlier because you were panicked and then you were teaching, and then I didn’t grill you about it when you got here because you looked like you were one strong gust away from falling over, but you need to tell me what’s going on before I kick your knackered ass out of here and home to bed.” Louis stated, leveling Harry with a stern look. 

“He just – he never hasn’t answered my call before, not since school started up again. And it- I overreacted I guess.” He confessed with shrug. 

“It’s more than that. When I got there to check on him, he stirred a bit when I walked in the flat but, fucking hell mate, he was completely done-in.” 

Harry opened his mouth, but Louis continued before he could get so much as a sound out.

“And don’t tell me that’s just how he is after treatment, because he didn’t have that today. Besides, I’ve seen him after chemo before and this was different. He looked like shit, just like you do right now.” Louis stated, bluntly but not unkindly – the same way he said most things. 

Harry sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as he stared across the short distance at his friend. Louis’ gaze was intense and his mouth pressed into a thin line, Harry knew he wouldn’t get away with the vague half-truth he was originally going to present. 

“He was throwing-up all night.” Harry rasped. 

“From the chemo?” 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t just like he got sick a few times, he was throwing up the entire night.” Harry explained, able to visibly see the clench of Louis’ jaw. 

“Doesn’t he have meds? For the nausea?” 

“Yeah, his appetite has gone to shit pretty much since he started chemo, we’ve tried fucking everything to treat it but not a damn thing has worked and then lately it’s gotten so much worse.” 

“Lately? Last night wasn’t the first time it happened?” Louis asked, sounding almost afraid of the mere idea.

Harry wished his friend wouldn’t ask questions he truly did not want to know the answers to, he wished he could save Louis from the truth he was so relentlessly seeking. 

“Harry?” 

“No. It was the second time. The first time was Friday night.” He admitted. 

“Fuck.” Louis snapped, kicking at the bar as he clenched his fists. “So what then? Is this the new normal?” He snapped. 

Harry didn’t have the energy for much of a reaction to his friend’s outrage, but he mirrored his frustration. “I don’t know. I thought it was just a fluke at first, but then after last night – fuck, Louis, I don’t know. The doctors warned us it might get worse, but I had no idea this is what they meant.” He explained, rubbing a hand over his face. “Hopefully it eases up a bit now that he’s getting a break from chemo.” 

“He has radiation this week though, right?” 

Harry nodded. “Yeah he was supposed to start today but I called in at six this morning when he was finally able to crawl into bed and told ‘em we’d start it up tomorrow – that’s why I texted Liam that he didn’t need to come over this morning. Zayn will have radiation for the rest of this week and then the week after that is nothing, so his immune system can get a break, and then two more weeks of chemo and another week of radiation and we just keep going with that cycle until the tests show that things have either improved or…” Harry couldn’t bring himself to say the other option, which was if things didn’t improve, then the treatment would intensify – because that option was just fucking unthinkable. He couldn’t imagine the ill boy’s health digressing any further or how in the hell treatment could become more intense.

“If it isn’t better, what would the options be?” Louis queried, his voice quiet and rough, he sounded apologetic to be asking such a thing; but Harry knew that Louis needed to know – this was _Zayn_ after all. 

“He’d probably have to be admitted – they’d do the rest of the treatment in house.” Harry rasped, staring down at his fingers, not wanting to think about the treatment being so fucking rigorous that Zayn wouldn’t be able to live in their home throughout the process. Being admitted to the hospital was one of the worst possible options for the quiet lad and Harry didn’t even want to think about how it would darken his boyfriend’s psyche. 

The cancer ward at the hospital was practically a Bermuda triangle for things like peace and hope – both of which were crucial aspects to defeating any disease, especially a bastard like cancer. 

“Hey.” 

Harry looked up at Louis’ call, the simple word holding so much demand. 

“We aren’t there yet, mate, don’t be falling down that rabbit hole.” He advised. 

“You asked.” Harry accused.

“I know, just so I have all the information, not because it’s something that we need to be thinking about – all we need to worry about now is how to get Zayn and you some rest.” 

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Me?” 

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yeah _you_ , you muppet. Have ya looked in the mirror lately?” 

Harry frowned, not much in the mood for insults. 

“You look completely wasted. I can’t imagine you’re getting a whole lot of sleep with Zayn up all night tossing his cookies.” 

The younger man opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by Liam and Niall who each sat down on the stools next to his. 

“How’d it go?” Harry asked, watching as the two individuals the boys had been meeting with made their way out of the pub.

“Pretty good, looks like we might actually have enough funds to renovate the bathrooms soon, so we’ll be looking into that over the next month or so.” Niall reported. 

“The finances look good, and that reno will only add value to the place, so it’s a proper way to invest the cash.” Liam stated. 

Harry nodded along. 

“What have you two got your heads together about?” Niall questioned. 

Harry made to respond, but Louis beat him to the punch. 

“How to get Zayn and Harry some rest.” 

“This about Zayn being up sick last night?” Liam asked, Harry having given him a brief synopsis of their night camped out on the bathroom floor in explanation as to why he didn’t need to be driving Zayn to radiation treatment that morning. 

Harry nodded. 

“Were you both up all night?” Niall question, soft and sympathetic. 

“Yeah, nothing to get wound up about though, just some nausea.” 

“And what are you planning to do if Zayn’s stomach tries to turn itself inside-out every night once chemo starts up again, huh?” Louis asked, his tone daring Harry to try playing things down again. 

“We’ll deal with it.” Harry responded, his confidence genuine as he stared steadily at the lad in front of him. 

“Like you are now? Marching about like a zombie?” The older boy shot back. 

“How am I the one you’re worried about, when Zayn spent the night with his head in the loo?” Harry questioned incredulously. 

“Well there’s not much we can do about that is there? None of us are walking around with a cure in our back pockets.” Louis challenged. 

“Oi! Ease up a bit, boys.” Niall said. 

Harry looked to his left as he felt Liam’s hand settle on his shoulder, the brunette’s gaze full of concern as their eyes met. 

“We are just worried is all. We know you’re running yourself ragged taking care of Zayn, and we’re worried you can’t keep on the way you are. We’re just trying to look out for you.” He added softly. 

Harry knew as much, but didn’t they understand he wasn’t the one that needed help? He wasn’t the one who stayed up all through the night heaving, and then had to deal with stomach cramps and body aches all the next day while desperately trying to acquire some passable degree of sleep so he could function enough to be forced through more treatment the next day. 

That was all Zayn. 

“You been eating enough?” Louis asked.

Harry frowned at the question, because first off where did it come from and secondly, when was he not eating? Harry was the most notorious snacker in the group. 

“Mate, when have I ever not eaten enough?” He responded, an eyebrow raised. 

The older lad shrugged. “I’m sure Zayn ain’t eating shit, just wondering if you’re looking after yourself.” 

Harry shook his head, because they didn’t understand. He didn’t need to look after himself, because Zayn was looking after him. The way he always had. 

Cancer hadn’t changed that.

It hadn’t changed _Zayn_. 

Nothing ever could. 

“I’m _fine_ , guys. I don’t know why you guys are so worried. I’m a bit tired is all, probably shouldn’t have gone to school this aft, but there was shit I had to do today.”

“We just want to help. Maybe when chemo starts up again, we can all take shifts spending the night – so you don’t always have to be up with Zayn.” Liam offered. 

Harry chuckled at the remark, because though it was very well-meaning, it was also incredibly off-base. 

“Yes, I’m certain that would go over brilliantly. Zayn will love having a babysitter every night.” He snorted. 

“Well he’ll just have to deal.” Louis declared. 

Harry shook his head. “It wouldn’t work, and it’s not necessary. Zayn and I are alright, we’ve got everything sorted.” 

At the signs of an argument, Harry continued quickly before anyone else could speak. 

“And when we aren’t, when we need a hand, I _ask_ you lads. I asked Louis to go check on Zayn this afternoon, and I ask Liam to drive him to treatment when it’s necessary, and Niall brought some groceries and shit we needed to the flat the other day.” Harry elaborated, bringing up specific examples to back-up his point so they couldn’t bicker with him about it. “I ask you guys for help whenever we need it. You don’t have to worry about things not be taken care of.” He assured. 

He looked around at his mates, being able to see clear as day the concern in all three of their expressions, Louis and Liam also looking as though they wanted to argue against his statement, but perhaps they knew they didn’t have any valid points to make. 

“We’re just worried.” Liam stated for what felt like the tenth time. 

“I know, and I appreciate the concern, but there is enough stuff to stress about right now, you don’t need to add me into the mix. I’m alright, honest.” Harry insisted. 

He could tell they didn’t believe him, not truly, but he was being completely honest and didn’t know what else to say to prove that. 

“Zayn and I look after each other, we always have. Okay? Cancer hasn’t changed that.” Harry proclaimed, being a little more open than he had intended, but wanting to do something to ease all the concern being projected in the small circle of boys. 

The statement clearly didn’t dissolve their fears, but they at least stopped looking at Harry like he was a lost little child. 

Louis was the first to break the silence – as he often was. 

“Well you best get home then. Make sure Zayn is still in one piece and then get some rest before you pass out on my floor.” Louis instructed, the order gruff but not devoid of concern. 

Harry twitched a smile, nodding as he got to his feet – happy to get home. He pat both Liam and Niall on the back before he made his way to the door. 

“Don’t you all stay here too late talking about me. I don’t know if you lads have looked in the mirror lately, but not one of you looks well-rested.” He chirped, smoothing over the honesty with a playful wink, chuckling at the comments about pots and kettles he heard being tossed at him as he stepped out of the pub. 

Harry was eager to get home, eager to get away from the world, eager to be with the man he loved more than anything. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he made his way up to his flat, he pulled it out and rolled his eyes at the three missed texts he’d received. Louis, Liam, and Niall, all reminding him to take care of himself and offering help in their own ways. He sent them all the same grateful response while also assuring them that he was well taken care of. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he arrived at his destination, pocketing his cell as he unlocked the door, entering quietly in case Zayn was asleep.

He slipped out of his jacket as he scanned the flat, twitching a smile when he saw Zayn curled into the corner of the couch. As he made his way around the back of the sofa, he could see that the raven-haired lad was reading a novel, which explained why he hadn’t reacted to Harry’s entrance. Zayn could become completely absorbed in things in ways that Harry had never known anyone could be until he met the creative lad. He could disappear into a novel or even a film, but nothing captured him like his art. Zayn would be blind to the world around him when he was focussed on his art, he would forget to eat and completely neglect his health as well as any social or educational commitments. It was something Harry had noticed back in school, and over the years he had gotten very good at taking care of the artistic soul. Something he never stopped being proud of. 

Because taking care of Zayn – being able to be that person who was he trusted to look out for him, that had always been a blessing, never a curse. And cancer hadn’t changed that. 

Noe one fucking bit.

Harry just stood for a moment to admire the beautiful boy before him, his knees going a little weak when he took notice to the fact that Zayn had his glasses on. The lad hardly ever wore the damn things, usually losing them somewhere or forgetting they existed, but any time he had them on Harry couldn’t seem to stop staring. 

They were sexy as fuck. 

Zayn looked up from his book, glancing to his right, his eyes widening for barely a second before a smile pulled out at his lips – making him look impossibly more breathtaking. 

“Hey babe.” He greeted, soft and sweet, the way he was around only those he loved most – Harry never stopped being grateful he was one of the few individuals who Zayn trusted and loved enough to show his more vulnerable side to. 

“Hi darlin.” Harry replied, smiling as he approached the couch, leaning in for a kiss. Both sets of lips were smiling when they met, each pair morphing against the other as the kiss deepened. 

Harry felt finger tips trace his jaw, butterflies bursting free inside of him in response to the sweetest love he had ever encountered. The boys parted, each with content sighs as they stared at one another. 

It was nearly a minute before Harry had the willpower to look away from that gorgeous gaze. 

“I’ll go get changed and then make you something to eat, ya?” He said, knowing Zayn wouldn’t have wanted to tempt fate by eating all day, but the thin body was in desperate need of nourishment, regardless of the fact that it kept trying so hard to reject it. 

“Mhmm in a minute, Haz, just come here first.” Zayn hummed, patting the cushion beside him before gently tugging the younger lad down onto it. Harry groaned softly as he relaxed into the sofa. 

“Long day?” Zayn asked. 

Harry nodded, willingly going with the motion as he was gently pulled down until he was laying on his side with his head resting on Zayn’s lap, thick cotton sweatpants nearly as good as a pillow beneath his cheek. 

“Tell me about it.” The raven-haired boy requested, as he began to drag his long thin fingers through the curly mess of hair. 

Harry sighed, his entire body going completely lax at the soothing motion as he mumbled on about the unnecessary board meetings at school and the suffocating concern from the lads at the pub. Zayn chuckled softly, never stopping the rhythmic movements of his fingers combing through Harry’s hair, scratching soothingly at his scalp – something that always caused him to melt. 

Harry must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was waking up. He found himself stretched out across the couch, a blanket draped over his long frame and a pillow having appeared beneath his head. He pushed himself up on one arm, wiping the drool off the corner of his mouth as he scanned the room for what mattered most. 

He was just about to climb off the couch and go see if his boyfriend had crashed in the bedroom, when the striking lad entered the room. Zayn still had his glasses on, and was dressed in the same grey sweatpants along with a dark green zip-up hoodie that belonged to Harry. He was focussed down on the mug of tea in his hands, shuffling slowly across the carpet, visibly working very hard at not spilling the hot beverage. Zayn had the tip of his tongue trapped between his teeth the way he always did when he was in deep concentration – which apparently was what it required to get the tea from the kitchen to the couch. Harry smiled at how damn adorable his boyfriend looked, but his lips dipped a bit as he realized the reason the simple task required so much extra focus, was because that fucking disease and the treatment for it had left Zayn so shaky and unsteady on his feet. 

“Oh good, you’re up. I didn’t want to wake you but you really need to eat some dinner.” 

“Dinner?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter on the couch and resisting the urge to go over and relieve Zayn of the mug balancing precariously in trembling hands. 

His boyfriend had always been fiercely independent, more so now that limitations were being forced upon him, so Harry was learning it was important to allow him to do certain things for himself.

“Yeah. Or like, late snack, I guess.” Zayn muttered with a shrug, prompting Harry to glance at the clock. 

It was nearly midnight.

“Fuck, Zee, you shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.” He stated, worried about how long it had been since the already too-skinny lad had eaten. 

“You were exhausted, Haz. You were barely on your feet when you got in, which is no surprise considering you were up all night and then at school all day and then at the pub all evening. You needed the sleep – and you need more, but first you need to hydrate and eat something.” Zayn declared, as he arrived at the couch. 

Harry took the steaming mug, holding it in one hand as the other snagged Zayn’s, tugging down on it gently. 

A soft smile spread across the older boy’s face, the expression emitting a fondness that made Harry feel uncharacteristically shy. He ducked his head away, only to have Zayn direct it back up towards him with a gentle touch as he leaned in. 

“Hi handsome.” Zayn greeted with a whisper. 

“Hey babe.” Harry replied. 

The kiss was sweet and lovely and made Harry feel warmer than a cup of tea ever could. Zayn placed a second kiss on Harry’s forehead, combing the hair back off his brow as he did. Harry sucked in a deep breath, feeling so overwhelming safe and loved and peaceful. He maintained a hold on Zayn’s hand, and frowned as it began to pull away from him. 

“Where you going?” He asked, not caring how childish he sounded even to his own ears. 

Zayn’s smile only widened and morphed into something impossibly more fond as he reached down to cup Harry’s cheek. The younger lad couldn’t help but lean into the touch as he stared up at his boyfriend. 

“Just grabbing your dinner, Haz, I’ll be right back.” 

Harry nodded, melting a little at the kiss that was pressed to his cheek before he reluctantly released Zayn’s hand as those long legs made their way out of the room. 

“Wait, dinner? You made me dinner?” He asked, his tired mind just putting things together. 

He heard a chuckle from the kitchen, but no actual response. 

“I could have made something. You should be resting.” Harry stated, about to get to his feet, but plopping back down at Zayn’s return. 

“So should you.” He responded, moving a little faster now that there was no tea to be spilled, but his hands were still shaking as he set the plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“Really, Ze, you didn’t need to.” Harry insisted, as he looked up at his boyfriend.

“It’s nothing fancy.” 

Harry glanced down at the grilled-cheese sandwich and cooked vegetables in front of him. 

“I don’t know if you ate with the lads, so don’t bother with the sandwich if you aren’t hungry. But if you did eat at the pub, I know you had nothing but rubbish, so do eat your veggies – they’re good for you.” 

Harry twitched a grin, Zayn would make a good dad some day – and Harry prayed on that day he would be able to experience fatherhood with the brilliant man.

“Where’s yours?” He asked, sending his boyfriend a suspicious glance. 

“I have toast in the kitchen, Styles.” Zayn responded with a knowing look. 

Harry nodded, getting to his feet. “Good, I’ll go grab it for you.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the offer, just shadowed Harry to the kitchen. 

“No, you sit down, I’ll get it.” Harry stated over his shoulder. 

“I have to get your milk.” 

“I can grab that too.” 

“And my tea.” 

Harry turned around at the threshold to the kitchen, eyebrows raised at the man behind him. “How many trips were you planning on making back and forth before asking for my help?” He questioned. 

Zayn shrugged with a smirk. “As many as it took. I’ve got to get my steps in, you know.” He joked with a wink, walking past Harry toward the counter. 

The younger lad knew the comment had been made in jest, but he couldn’t muster so much as a smile for it, let alone a witty retort. The remark was too close to being about Zayn’s weight, and there were a great many things Harry would joke about, but that was never _ever_ one of them. Zayn’s weight was a matter that Harry could never make light of, one he never ever found humorous - not in the least, even before he had found out about Zayn’s eating disorder back when they were in school. It had never been about body-image, which was usually what people assumed with that kind of thing. With Zayn it was more of a complete disregard for his own well-being. Sometimes he would be so absorbed in his art he would simply forget a meal or two, on other occasions he would be too pre-occupied or busy and could go days without eating, and in the worst cases he would be so stressed that he wouldn’t eat or when he did he wouldn’t be able to keep it down. Zayn had struggled with the eating disorder throughout school, the lads all doing their best to keep a close eye on it – though it had mostly been resolved as Zayn learned better ways to cope with stress or was removed from the source of the anxiety entirely. But the truth was, Harry always kept an eye on it, because every once and awhile the old struggle would rear its head once again and often Zayn wouldn’t even notice until his health was already at risk. 

No, Zayn’s weight was never funny and never something to be joked about, especially not now – when the sight of Zayn without his shirt on sent fear slamming through Harry’s chest, because the boy was just so goddamn thin. There was no eating disorder at play this time around though, just stupid fucking cancer. 

Harry shook the dark thoughts from his head, because Zayn would be okay, he was standing in front of him now, looking equal parts sexy and adorable with those glasses and the red tongue between his teeth as he carefully handed Harry a mug and a glass. 

“You take those.” He instructed. 

Harry nodded, grabbing the beverages, waiting for Zayn to grab his plate before following him back to the couch. 

Zayn settled down in the corner of the sofa with his toast on his lap, Harry placing the cup of ginger tear in front of him on the coffee table. 

“No jam?” Harry asked, nodding at his boyfriend’s dinner. 

“Not today, just honey.” Zayn responded simply, taking a nibble of the toast. 

Harry nodded along, hearing everything the man wasn’t saying; his stomach was still uneasy, not yet ready for strong flavours – which also explained why he didn’t have his own glass of milk. Harry had learned early on – almost as soon as the chemo had begun - that diary was rather harsh on the digestive system. 

Zayn wasn’t able to eat much or even drink the glass of milk that he always poured for dinner, but he had ensured that Harry had a decent and healthy meal as well as his daily intake of calcium. 

Zayn was so fucking sick and so tired, he was weary and weak, he had to be sore as hell and completely done-in because of last night; but none of that – _none of it –_ stopped him from taking care of Harry. 

“Hey.” 

Harry glanced over to his left.

“Where do you keep wandering off too?” Zayn asked, a gentle concern in his voice. 

Harry twitched a smile – as unaware as the lad could sometimes be of his surroundings, Zayn was always very attentive towards his boyfriend, even at times when Harry wished he wouldn’t be.

“I’m right here.” He assured with a smile. 

Zayn studied him with a doubtful expression, but appeared to be appeased as Harry began to eat his food. They both ate their meals, Zayn making an effort, but only making it through a piece and a half of toast. Harry desperately wanted the skinny boy to eat more, but he knew that if he had been the one hurling for the entirety of last night, he wouldn’t be eager to fill his stomach less than twenty-four hours later either. He swallowed his concern, carefully handing Zayn his tea, mirroring the smile he received. Once Harry had finished both his supper and his milk, he settled back into the couch with his tea. His insides warmed as Zayn’s arm stretched over his shoulders, his hand laying to rest on Harry’s chest. The younger man leaned back into his boyfriend, snuggling close as they both enjoyed their cups of tea. 

Harry hadn’t noticed he was fading until the mug was snagged from his slack fingers. He hummed a confused sound as he peaked through bleary eyes. 

“You’re going to burn yourself, Haz.” Zayn explained, clearly he had been concerned about Harry spilling the hot beverage on himself, which admittingly might have happened.

Harry closed his eyes again, only to groan a displeased sound as the long body he was leaning against began to shift. He heard Zayn chuckle, the sound soothing in ways no other sound ever had been. The couch cushion shifted as the lanky frame stood from it, Harry cracking his eyelids back open as his hand was grabbed and lightly pulled by a familiar set of long fingers. 

“Time for bed, babe.” Zayn prompted, tugging insistently. 

Harry nodded, obediently getting to his feet, wiping his free hand over his face as he was lead across the carpet and into the bedroom. He frowned as the fingers that had been entangled with his disappeared without warning, leaving him feeling stranded in the middle of their room. 

“Get undressed, I’ll grab your sleep clothes.” Zayn said. 

It took a moment for the instructions to make their way through the fog of fatigue that clouded his head, but eventually he understood and undid his slacks, clumsily pushing them down and stumbling out of them. His limbs felt weighted and weak as he dropped down to sit on the mattress. 

“Don’t need sleep clothes.” He muttered, closing his eyes. 

“You sure?”

“Make me too warm.” He usually slept with pants and a shirt during the colder months of the year, but the flat had been kept at a very toasty temperature to help keep Zayn warm, and so any time Harry went to bed with clothes he often woke in the night feeling too hot.

“We can turn the heat down, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Zayn said, sounding like he was closer now than he had been. 

“No, S’okay.” Harry insisted with a weary slur, he’d be fine without the extra layers. He slit his eyes open as he felt a gentle touch on his chest. He watched as Zayn bent down in front of him and began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes remaining focussed on his boyfriend as he removed his top layer, smoothing the wrinkles out of it before carefully hanging it up. Harry tracked the long frame as it moved back toward where he was seated on the bed, and squatted down in front of him. Zayn took Harry’s foot in his hands and peeled off his sock, doing the same with the other foot before scooping both legs up and depositing them gently onto the mattress. Harry closed his eyes and wiggled down until he was laying on the bed, grumbling when he was jostled by the covers being pulled out from beneath his body, but releasing a relaxed sigh as they were pulled overtop of him. 

He hummed happily as long fingers combed through his hair and a kiss was placed against his brow. 

“Get some sleep, darling.” Zayn encouraged, kissing Harry again on the forehead before the younger man could sense his boyfriend moving away. Harry reached out, snagging that slender wrist as he looked up.

“Stay.” He whined, not caring that he sounded like a petulant child. 

Zayn smiled, leaning back down and cupping Harry’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, Hazza. You just get some sleep.” Zayn cooed, his low whisper and thumb moving tenderly across the younger lad’s cheekbone enough to nearly lull Harry to sleep. 

Zayn slipped away from Harry’s weary hold, and as tempted as the exhausted man was to surrender to the tempting pull of sleep, he forced himself to stay awake until his boyfriend’s return. He had to make sure that Zayn came to bed and didn’t hide away to be sick. 

Thankfully, the slim boy returned to their bedroom only moment’s later, puttering soundlessly about the room, tidying things up - picking up the pants Harry had left in a ball on the floor and folding them neatly before moving back towards the mattress. 

“Hey, I told you to go to sleep.” Zayn accused quietly as he slipped beneath the covers. 

“Needed you.” Harry purred, rolling onto his left-side to face the dark-haired man. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Zayn spoke sincerely as he got situated on the bed next to Harry. 

“S’okay.” 

“You warm enough?” Zayn questioned, looking adorable with his brow all furrowed as he tugged the covers up further over Harry’s broad shoulders. 

“Yes.” Harry hummed, he was only in his briefs and undershirt, but the temperature in the flat and the thick comforter surrounded him in a cocoon of warmth. “Be warmer when you get your cute butt over here.” He added, his arm outstretched as he impatiently motioned for Zayn to move closer. 

Harry’s eyes open just wide enough for him to catch the amused smirk that pulled at Zayn’s perfectly pink lips. “My butt is cute now, huh?” 

“Your butt’s always been cute.” Harry declared, wrapping his arms around the thin frame and pulling it into him. 

Zayn’s giggle traveled through Harry’s ear canals and directly into his heart, making it swell with all sorts of gooey emotions. He felt Zayn shifting in his arms, frowning as he worried his sweet creature was about to pull away, but relieved when he felt warm breath against his neck, realizing Zayn had simply been turning over. 

Harry smiled as a kiss was placed to the underside of his jaw, before hair tickled his chin as Zayn nuzzled into him. 

“I love you.” The whisper was quiet, Zayn’s lips moving against Harry’s collarbone as the words were formed. 

“I love you.” Harry responded, tightening his embrace as he pressed his lips to the top of Zayn’s head, peace washing over him as he felt his boyfriend’s body relax as a content sigh breezed against his skin. 

Those three words were powerful and magical, and Harry would never tire of hearing them from or saying them to the person he loved most in the world.

But they were also entirely unnecessary. 

Harry had no need to hear those words, because he felt them every damn day. 

Harry had always been good with words, had never really struggled to vocalize what he thought or felt – but Zayn had never been a big talker and was more prone to bottling things up than expressing his feelings, his love was most often spoken through actions. 

Grand gestures were more Harry’s style, but Zayn would do them for the younger lad, even though the quiet boy often wasn’t a fan of bringing any additional attention upon himself. But Zayn’s specialty was actions, that was how he displayed his love. 

His actions were more as of late – due to the damn disease that ravaged his body, but they spoke just as clearly. 

There wasn’t a damn day that went by where Harry didn’t feel loved, not matter how much Zayn was hurting or how exhausted he was or how long he spent draped over the toilet turning his stomach inside out – he _always_ made Harry feel loved. 

On the mornings the lad would make Harry breakfast and lunch – even when he knew how much pain the ill boy was in. Zayn would make certain that Harry was maintaining a healthy proper diet, even when he himself wasn’t able to keep food down. Zayn was always making sure his boyfriend was physically, mentally, and emotionally well.

Harry didn’t know how to explain to his coworkers or his family or even his best mates that he didn’t need to be taken care of, because Zayn had it covered. The two had always cared for each other, and though cancer placed limitations on Zayn and caused his needs to escalate, he never once for a second allowed Harry to slip through the cracks. Harry wasn’t alone in caring for the man he loved – it went both ways. As it always had.

Harry had someone to go to when he was feeling defeated. 

He had somewhere safe to rest when he was weary. 

He had someone to lift him up when he was down.

He had someone taking care of him.

He had everything he needed.

Because he had Zayn. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions? Is it absolute rubbish? Let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading! - Sam


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